Born Too Late
by louise4
Summary: She was, Hermione mused sadly, destined to be forever falling in love with the wrong person." And in her seventh year she fell for the most inappropriate person of them all. A SeverusHermione love story.


**DISCLAIMER**: nothing is mine. The song is by Poni-tails

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: this is a bit of Hermione/Severus that has been sitting on my machine for a while now. Just me indulging in Hermione here really.

If all goes to plan there will be a sequel/parallel story of sorts from Severus' side of things.

Thanks a million to my beta Starry!

Please enjoy, and review.

**Born Too Late – A Hermione/Severus story**

She was, Hermione mused sadly, destined to be forever falling in love with the wrong person. In her third year she'd fallen for Ron Weasley, one of her best friends. It had not been the crush she'd initially tried to dismiss it as and at the time she had believed it to be the kind of real, lasting affection that held her parents marriage stable for so long. When Dumbledore had announced that there was going to be a ball she had indulged herself with numerous fantasies which resulted in Ron declaring his love and asking her to the ball, after which they became a 'proper couple' and the rest of the school would smile knowingly at them and say that they had always known they were meant to be together.

Of course, as the day of the ball got closer and Ron remained as he ever had been, her dreams began to crumble and she finally accepted Victor's invitation.

Even then she'd allowed herself little daydreams, which Ron would cut in while she was dancing with Victor and sweep her off her feet. The truth, however, was rather more mundane: Ron couldn't dance and the only discussion between them had taken the form of an argument.

_Born too late for you to notice me_

_To you, I'm just a kid that you won't date_

_Why was I born too late?_

But she soon found herself returning Victor's shy affection for her, and slowly he replaced Ron in her hopes and dreams for future bliss. By the end of her fourth year, in amongst all the drama and tragedy Hermione Granger was dangerously close to falling in love and looked forward eagerly to spending the summer with Victor in Bulgaria.

Her parents, however, weren't so enamoured with the idea.

For the first time in her life Hermione regretted her close relationship with her parents, a closeness which manifested itself in weekly letters which held nothing back about her life at school, letters which initially spoke of her love of her studies and her occasionally distressing solitude and later regaled her parents with stories of Harry's adventures.

When she returned home they were far more serious than she had ever seen them, clutching her most recent letter in one hand and a Daily Prophet in the other, the headline 'DEATH AT HOGWARTS' screaming out at her.

A week later she had been packed off to spend the summer under the protection of the Order of the Phoenix and Albus Dumbledore. Her parents were refusing to even consider the idea, of travelling to Bulgaria

She had written to Victor expressing all her consternation at this development and letters had flown fast between them for the first few weeks of the holidays.

Slowly, however, the gap in the ages became more keenly felt and while she was cooped up inside on the orders that her parents had set, he was taking his first steps into the world as a fully qualified and independent wizard. Slowly the letters dwindled, though it was to be several years later before the communication between them finally subsided into nothing more than cards at birthdays and Christmas.

The separation was not made any easier for her with the knowledge that she could so easily have loved Victor, that had she been able to spend the summer with him then they would have been a firm couple by the time she returned for her fifth year. When they were together the age difference was nothing, for she was, in many ways, old before her time, and his shyness and the isolation of his fame bought contrived to make him, in some ways, a lot younger than other eighteen year olds.

_Born too late to have a chance to win your love_

_Oh why, oh why was it my fate?_

_To be born too late?_

Hermione had always been serious, and it is not, therefore, surprising that she took these two romantic failures seriously. She threw herself into her studies with an unnecessary zeal in her fifth year, determined not to set herself up for another disappointment.

To some extent it had worked, and she instead was able to act as translator for Harry and Ron, who were not so much discovering the world of romance as walking through it blindfolded, stumbling and colliding with things they could not see clearly. She had known something was not quite right when Harry described his first kiss as 'wet' without any sense of coyness or dissembling. She remembered her own first kiss, the hesitant meeting of lips with Victor, the slow confidence as mouths parted and tongues met, touching gently at first, then more eagerly. She could have described that moment perfectly, and wet just wouldn't have come into it, tears or no. But she sat back and watched, ready to catch him as he tried to peruse Cho with a stubbornness that was all too Harry, resolving to pick up the pieces when it all finally collapsed.

Ron too, was finding girls. But of course, this time he does it with more real sense, than his insulting search for a ball partner in fourth year. Flirtations with Lavender and Parvati gave way when he discovered that there were girls in other houses too, though he never went anywhere near Padma Patil again. He did not, however, settle down in any sort of proper relationship though from vague, half asked questions she was lead to believe he had found a girl he would _like_ to date? Does he even have the courage?

This revelation, she was pleased to note, did not distress her and she could write off her crush on Ron as just that, a crush.

The sixth year, however, bought about a lot of changes in all their lives. Harry's Aunt had taken the Order's warning to heart and in their terror the Dursleys had more than made up for their previous neglect of Harry. Going further, they took him and Dudley on a two week holiday in France. The vacation had done Harry a lot of good, the entertainment helping take his mind of his grief for Sirius and his worries about the future. He had also come to a realisation that she, herself, had reached the year before and so she wasn't surprised when he confessed that he suspects himself to be gay. Once again, it was so typically Harry. He wasn't telling her that he was gay nor was he asking her approval. Rather he was asking for her decision; here are the facts "'Mione, am I gay?" She had simply smiled, hugged him and told him to go and find out. "Kiss as many frogs as you can and see if you'd fancy a Prince," she grinned, sending him off to bed before going on her rounds.

She was torn by another sort of preoccupation this year when she was passed over for the position of Head Girl. Not full Head Girl of course, the shock and disappointment would probably have killed her, but rather the stand-in position that Dumbledore created for the two weeks in which the seventh years would be tied up with their mock NEWTs.

He had called all the sixth year prefects into his office and announced that Justin Finch Fletchy and Sally Ann Moon would be the temporary Head Boy and Head Girl and dismissed them, though not before asking Draco Malfoy and herself to stay behind.

"You were both clearly expecting to hear your names read out," he began bluntly, "and in truth they should have been. You are both possessed with an impressive strength of character and the intelligence and steadiness to prove most valuable leaders of your peers. Further more, your grades throughout the years show that you meet the academic requirements for the role. As such, you are the perfect choice for Head Boy and Girl for both this trial period and for the real role next year. You will, however, not be appointed while you insisted on maintaining this childish rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Yes, Miss Granger…" he raised his voice slightly as Hermione made to protest, "this **is** a matter that you can influence. For Mr Potter and Mr Weasley respect and love you and they will be guided by you as they always have been. You, Mr Malfoy," he turned to the blonde, whose superior expression had been most completely wiped from his face, "are possessed of both the influence your father has bought for his family and the leadership qualities you yourself were born with and it would take only a little of the intelligence you are blessed with to use both wisely. Both of you are in the unique position of being free to decide your destiny in this matter. Should you choose to grow up, and ensure those around you do the same I shall be happy to announce your names at the feast next year. Should you decide to continue this childish rivalry, however, others will have the roles that should have been yours and you will have no choice but to live with it and know it to be your own fault."

It had been a clear dismissal and both left the office, feeling smaller than they had in years. They walked together silently, each thinking furiously until Draco broke the silence.

"I'm not apologising."

"Neither am I."

"Fine, be that way."

"I'm fine with that…"

It had been the catalyst need to cause a truce between the warring houses and within a month Hogwarts was altered beyond recognition as Gryffindors and Slytherins conversed with a forced and false civility which would eventually gave away to a genuine friendship between the houses.

And though neither house would admit it to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, the truth was that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had them by the balls. Draco was indeed possessed of the influence and intelligence to bend his housemates to his will and when he exerted himself in his position of house leader not even the seventh years dared gainsay him. Hermione, on the other hand, was possessed of the temper to control her house, and all who witnessed her explosion in the common room were too scared to do anything but obey. Her fury as she let rip at everyone present, went down as a legend, and no one would forget the anger in her voice as she chastised them all for perpetuating a rivalry that even a hat could see was wrong. And they would have resented her outburst had she not clearly included herself in her rant.

Both houses were whipped and they knew it.

Not everyone, however, disliked this new openness, and it took less than a week for Hermione to discover who had been keeping Ron single for a year.

For Ron Weasley had fallen totally and completely for Pansy Parkinson. Before anyone realised they were even friends.

Within in a month of the new truce they could be seen walking around together, hand in hand, smiling shyly at each other, clearly completely happy.

And Hermione envied them that.

_I see you walk with another_

_I wish it could be me_

_I long to hold you and kiss you_

_But I know it never can be_

_For, I was…_

_Born too late for you to care_

_Now my heart cries_

_Because your heart just couldn't wait_

_Why was I born too late?_

When she entered her seventh year, things changed again. As promised, Dumbledore made Draco Malfoy and herself Head Boy and Head Girl and they managed to work well together in the role. In truth Hermione found herself growing rather fond of the boy who was such a contradiction, such a mixture of vanity and modesty, or self-assurance and self-doubt. Their new roles as school leaders saw them spending much of their free time together and Hermione found herself understanding him more, understanding how he could turn from wanna-be Death Eater to Dumbledore supporter in less than a year.

By the time they returned for their seventh year the Gryffindor/Slytherin interaction was not the novelty it once was, and the forced civility had, in places, thawed into something more genuine. Blaise Zabini and Dean Thomas had formed a fast friendship and could often be seen playing football together by the lake on a weekend and were even talking about setting some teams up for a proper game.

Lavender Brown and Millicent Bullstrode had also become friends, and Millicent could often be found in the Gryffindor common room discussing hair or makeup or the latest edition of Witch Weekly with the seventh years, as if she had always been part of their group.

And of course Ron Weasley and Pansy Parkinson were a firm couple by this time. Pansy had spent several weekends at the Burrow and his family had, apparently, loved her (once they had gotten over the shock of having a Slytherin in the house). Pansy had made efforts to make friends with Harry and Hermione, and Ron had even gone so far as to make peace with Draco Malfoy. Hermione found herself in the position of confidant to both Ron and Pansy when they were apart and had it on good authority that Ron was planning to propose as soon as decently possible and Pansy was trying very hard not to say yes before he had asked the question (it tends to appear a little keen).

The downside, however, was that she couldn't help but mourn the sense that all around her people were falling in love, or lust, and she was trapped on the outside looking in at them. Not because she **didn't** have someone to love, but rather because she **couldn't** allow herself to love the person she did.

And she did love him, though every rational part of her told her she shouldn't.

It wasn't because he was older than her; she had experienced that to some extent with Victor, though the age gap here was substantially more.

Nor was the problem that he was a Slytherin. Ron, of course, had broken that taboo over a year ago and she couldn't help but suspect that Harry too would be dating a Slytherin if he only had the courage. Hell, she smiled to herself; if even Ron had noticed then it must be obvious. And she had gotten the shock of her life when she had discovered the subtle manoeuvres being employed by Ron and Pansy to set Harry and Draco up.

No, the problem was far bigger than any school boy rivalry or narrow minded view about age gaps, the problem was possibly the biggest taboo that there could be and because of that she knew she would never be able to be with the man she loved, because Hermione Granger had fallen in love with her teacher, Severus Snape.

It seems over dramatic for a girl of seventeen to, be pining for a man twice her age, a man who is, moreover, her teacher, but Hermione knew this was no silly school girl crush.

He was not the sort of man you would call handsome by any means, but his was a face that spoke of determination of mind and strength of character. He was someone she felt safe with even before she realised it.

It was certainly not something Hermione had gone looking for, it was rather something that would have horrified her had she realised what was happening before it was too late.

Hermione was taking NEWT Level Potions, naturally, and as part of this each student was obliged to do independent study under the supervision of the Potions Master, either in small groups or individually, depending on timetable constraints. At first it had been fine, because their almost identical timetables had allowed herself and Draco Malfoy to share Snape's attention, not the trial it would have been in previous years thanks to the new détente and it was positively enjoyable at times as she was able to watch as the friendly interaction between the two made each appear more human and more likable. Unfortunately, increased pressures on both sides required them to seek new and separate slots for their experiments and Hermione found herself working on her potions alone with Severus Snape for three hours every Friday night.

Even looking back now she could not pinpoint the moment when it stopped being a chore and started becoming the thing she most looked forward to of a week, she could not even say if she had ever felt it to be a chore. She certainly missed Draco's influence for the first two lessons, as the dialogue between her and Professor Snape was somewhat stilted at first. Gradually, however, they became accustomed to being alone, and developed their own interactions, getting finally to the point where he would bring her cups of tea while she was working and she would remain behind far after her allotted three hours to discuss things with him. Ron had once asked her what she found to talk about with that 'greasy git' and without thinking she had answered "life, the universe, everything and anything." And it was true, she would find herself talking about things not remotely potions related, chatting about her day, a particularly troublesome student, her relations with her friends and family and asking his advice about all manner of things.

What was also true, and should have given her, her first warning sign, was that she had bristled defensively when Ron had referred to Snape with their long held and not overly pleasant nickname, 'the greasy git'. She bristled, not only because she didn't see him that much anymore, but also because he had become Severus in her head.

The penny finally dropped one Friday evening, about a month from the end of the year. She had practically finished her project and she was in her now familiar position, perched on the end of a desk, legs swinging aimlessly, and chatting away ten to the dozen.

"Miss Granger," Snape looked up exhaustedly, "I sense that this conversation will be ending no time soon, not least because you have yet to stop for breath. I find myself in need of several papers from my quarters…maybe you would accompany me and we could finish this discussion in more comfortable surroundings."

And that was how she found herself sitting in her favourite of his armchairs, a large, stuffed black chair close to the fire, drinking a cup of tea he had just handed her, bombarding him with questions about the numerous wizarding universities that she had been unable to visit and the numerous careers she had yet to explore, mentally sifting through to find one that would suit her. She watched in a detached manner as he rose and went over to a large bookcase – the sight of which had made her sigh longingly – and pulled out several books. He handed them to her and sat back down, watching as she held them, not daring to open so fragile looking items.

"Be assured they will not break, Miss Granger," he smiled slightly, a small twisting of the lips she would never have considered a smile on anyone else but felt completely suited his whole demeanour. "I acquired them more than years ago, that I can remember and found them remarkably useful to quiet Draco's ceaseless questions about his possible future. The first, imaginatively entitled "Careers", is a self updating record of the jobs that exist in the wizarding world today, anything from banker to Quidditch player, all with the requisite qualifications listed and comments from people involved in those areas of work. The other two are studies of the wizarding universities and the alternatives and provide enough information to satisfy even you. Return them when you have finished."

"Thank you, sir," she smiled and gingerly opened the first book, which she instantly discovered was a lot newer that it looked. Deciding to look at them later she slid them carefully into her bag and picked up her cup of tea. It was the only thing keeping her in the room now she had the books and she was suddenly very aware of one fact 'I don't want to leave.' The thought struck her hard and she felt suddenly very confused, but the one person she had become accustomed to seeking advice from was the last person she could talk to about this.

'I don't want to leave. To leave this place... to leave him...'

It suddenly struck her that somewhere within the lessons and the chats and the meaningless interactions, Severus Snape had become possibly the most important person in the world to her. She realised with horror that his opinion and approval meant far more that it should, and that she no longer saw a future without seeing him.

Setting her cup down slowly, she rose "I should leave, I have… duties."

"Of course," he smiled, ever the gentleman, and walked her to the door. "I expect I will probably see you tomorrow as well, Miss Granger. Goodnight."

Tomorrow? How many Saturdays now had she found some excuse to visit him, now that he expected to see her day to day. She honestly could not answer the question. 'Does Snape really mean that much to me?' she pondered as she wandered around the castle, going through the motions of the obligatory night-time checks. The answer, of course, was a clear yes, yes he meant that much to her and yes he had done for some time.

It was suddenly very obvious and very damning.

She was in love with Severus Snape, a man old enough to be her father and a man who was, more importantly, her teacher.

Sheer common sense had kept this knowledge from surfacing for a long time, but denial would only take you so far and she knew with a sudden clarity that she had loved him and been in love with him for longer than she realised. He was the spectre that kept her from looking at other men, and that prompted her refusals to the offers that came her way. Blaise, Justin, Ernie, and Scott… how many people had she cast aside because they weren't right, because they didn't have black eyes, because they weren't six foot tall, because they weren't Severus Snape.

It was more than she had ever felt for Ron or for Victor, this was something real, something based on true knowledge of the other person. Something fuelled by the knowledge that this person is someone you could spend your future with because it is someone who fits in so well with you, someone who fills your gaps, rather than someone who exists as an exact copy of your self.

Opposites attract because you need to be whole.

Severus made her whole.

She loved Severus.

She was merrily calling him Severus.

Shit.

A week of panic and severely reduced interaction followed, and she told herself it wasn't glaringly obvious because she had no real cause to see him anymore. Classes were a formality not often indulged in this close to the end, NEWTs were virtually over, her potions were completed…teachers and students had no need for interaction any longer.

Except for the fact that she still had his books.

A week and three days after she finally saw what had been there for a while she gathered herself together and prepared to face the man she loved. Clutching his books against her chest, she ventured into the dungeon, feeling the kind of nerves she had not attributed to this route for many years.

He was not teaching – it had come as no great shock to realise that somewhere along the way she had also picked up his schedule and committed it to memory.

She opened the door slowly and he looked up and watched her enter, not saying anything. She stood there, just staring at him for a moment before recollecting herself.

"I bought these back," she offered the books up reluctantly and he took them from her.

"Were they of any use?" he enquired pleasantly.

"Yes, indeed. Thank you."

She stood there stupidly, just staring at him until he finally spoke.

"Was there something else, Miss Granger?" he asked finally.

Hermione took a step forward, flushing slightly, "I just wanted to say thanks, for everything. For helping me, for listening, and for putting up with me," she laughed weakly, "just… well… Thanks. You don't know how much is mean to me. How much you mean to me," she looked up at him shyly, "Severus."

They looked at each other in silence again, because this time words were not needed, and Hermione took another cautious step forward, clearly determined to take things further, if he would let her.

"I think you should leave, Hermione," he said gently before she could get any closer, eyes and face saying more that he ever could. Mortified she turned away from him; tears welling up in her eyes but her pride would not let him see them. At some point the fact that he had used her given name would register with her, but for now she had to leave.

Turning, she fled the room, hurt and embarrassed in equal measure, shamed by the idea that the Head Girl had just acted like a child in front of a teacher and upset that Hermione had been rejected by Severus, feeling stupid to have even tried.

The brightness of the Great Hall providing a stark contrast to the dark of the dungeons, and she turned and head for the Gryffindor common room. Standing in the corridor outside the common room she saw Draco and Harry talking quietly and hesitantly to each other, shy gestures and almost touches showing that neither had had the courage to act of the all too obvious underlying attraction.

"For God's sake just kiss each other and get on with it, all this dithering around is driving everyone crazy," she huffed, pushing past them, not caring whether they listen to her or not. As such, she totally missed Harry planting a quick kiss on the lips of a very dazed Draco, nor that boy's quick recovery as he push her friend up against the nearest wall and kissed him back with everything he had to give.

Hermione ran through the common room and up to the girls' dormitory, shutting herself away behind thick red curtains and sobbing.

She had ruined everything.

_Born too late for you to care_

_Now my heart cries_

_Because your heart just couldn't wait_

_Why was I born too la-a-a-a-ate?_

_Why was I born too late?_

_Too late_

Graduation couldn't come soon enough for Hermione after her final encounter with Severus, and the event which she had so dreaded as heralding their separation she now counted down to for the same reason.

She was acutely conscious of having humiliated herself, and for a girl who was fiercely proud it was a keen blow. After two days of wallowing she emerged from her room a different person. She was more reserved and controlled than she had ever been before, and her friends who had always considered her to be both those things, suddenly realised how much she had changed in the last few years. The biggest difference, however, was that she no longer laughed, barely even smiled.

To those around her it seemed as if her heart were broken.

It was Pansy, who she finally poured her heart out to and the blonde girl did her best to repay the friendship Hermione had shown her since she started dating Ron.

But it was Dumbledore who gave her something to think about, something to take her mind off her heart.

With two hours left before graduation, he called her into his office and made her a most startling offer.

"Miss Granger, glad you could make it at such short notice. I wanted to speak to you before you left for the summer to get your opinion on a new venture we will be piloting next year. It has come to my attention that many of the muggle-born students who come here, and those wizarding-born children who wish to move into the muggle world, are placed at a severe disadvantage by our somewhat limited programme here. While we can, of course, manufacture records to allow students into muggle universities and assist them in getting jobs in the muggle world, the muggle studies programme does not prepare them for this experience. I just could not help but notice, your frequent and vocal disapproval of our muggle studies programme," here he smiled at her reassuringly and she blushed slightly as she remembered the long and over researched letters and proposals she had bombarded him with during her later years at the school.

"After much research and after consulting with other staff and student I will concede that you were, in this instance, totally correct and we have been revising the programme accordingly. While I am aware that you will be attending university next year, I was hoping to borrow you to help in the implementation of this new programme."

Hermione looked vaguely disconcerted and, correctly guessing where her thoughts lay Dumbledore continued, "I have spoken to your future tutors and they have agreed to work this into your studies, which, I believe, are centring around muggle relations. So, what do you think, Miss Granger?"

"I think… wow," she was feeling rather dazed by the news, staring at him in shock.

"Do you accept my proposal then, Hermione?"

"Yes, truthfully it sounds absolutely fantastic, Headmaster. I would be an idiot to decline."

"Excellent. It had always been so nice to be able to say 'au revior', to departing students, it is so much more hopeful than goodbye. And I think you can safely call me Albus, don't you my dear."

"Thank you, Albus," she blushed prettily as she said it, rising to leave, "I must get back to the school now, the ceremony starts soon."

"Of course, my dear girl…" He stood up to walk her out.

"Thanks for giving me this opportunity, it is really rather flattering," she continued, aware that she was grinning like an idiot and really should stop talking.

"I must confess that my motives aren't totally selfless, though. I will be a pleasure to have at least one member of staff whom Severus actually likes."

The twinkle was firmly back in his eye as he said this, ushering her out of the door as she stared dumbly at her.

The graduation ceremony was over before she even realised it had begun, so stunned she was by Albus' parting shot.

She would later, blame this shock for her parting words to Severus, who was obliged to be at the gates to bid farewell to his students.

She brushed her parents off when she saw him, and hurried quickly to his side, holding out one hand.

"I'm leaving now, I just thought I'd come over and say goodbye. And thank you for everything you've done for me this year." He shook her hand, a small smile crossing his face for a moment.

"Of course, Miss Granger, it was a pleasure."

"You haven't got rid of me though," she continued, "Albus is inviting me back next year to teach."

"Yes, he told me as much himself."

"Indeed," Hermione turned to return to her parents but gathered her courage for one last word. "That said, I think it's only fair to let you know that I'm in love with you, just in case you were wondering."

And with that, she left.

**END **


End file.
